


patterns

by falloutbird



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: (goes both ways here), Feminization, Humiliation, Infidelity, Light BDSM, M/M, Panties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27046654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falloutbird/pseuds/falloutbird
Summary: Pete and Patrick can’t stop falling into old patterns they’ve created. They’re not good people, and they know that, but they could also try a little harder.
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Kudos: 8





	patterns

It’s been a long time since rocking hips onstage or longing glances at events has led to Pete winding up with his dick in Patrick. They’ve gotten better at impulse control over the years. Once upon a time, it had been nightly; Patrick whining and grinding against the guitar, Pete pushing him up against the wall of the bus as soon as they were inside. They were older now. Married. “Settled down”. And yet, they both knew it wasn’t completely out of the picture. They’d avoided each other, put space between them once they’d returned from hiatus.

It didn’t stop them from wanting, though. Patrick already knew they were bound to cave. Him, specifically. For a long time, he’d been the prissy one, he’d been the one who tried to uphold whatever moral standings they had. Now, though, he really just wanted to be fucked. They’d already slept with each other while they were married; it couldn’t be undone. So what was one more time, really? 

The way they came together was a lot of unsaid things. Pete caught a glimpse of lace panties peeking out of the top of Patrick’s jeans; he cast him a needy look usually reserved for the bedroom, but didn’t acknowledge it. Pete slapped his ass when he brushed past him on stage. They nagged each other incessantly, stuck in a constant back and forth, until eventually they found themselves alone on the bus with no distractions or reasons to pretend they were doing anything but what they were doing.

“It’s been a long time, pretty boy,” Pete whispered against Patrick’s neck, cradling him as he slid a hand down towards Patrick’s bulge. The cuddling had never stopped for them, had never become unusual, but this was different. Patrick’s breath hitched. “You should hurry up, then,” he mumbled, spreading his legs a little. Pete started to press little bites and kisses to his skin, and Patrick arched up, giving a tiny whine. “Yeah?” He whispered. “Never stopped wanting this, wanting me, huh?” And like that, Pete had him flipped over and pinned beneath him. “Don’t get fucking smug with me,” he whispered. “You’re the one who started this.” Patrick gave him a breathless grin. “And you’re the one holding me down. You’re not fucking innocent here.”

Pete started tugging off Patrick’s shirt, and he gave him a smug grin, lifting his arms. “Am I that good? We’ve barely started. Won’t you kiss me?” He asked. Pete was used to this. He knew it was just sex; it was an act, and Patrick’s self-assurance would drop immediately after. But fuck, he couldn’t help but be really into his whole ‘bratty’ schtick. He immediately started to kiss Patrick roughly, tongue sliding into his mouth. He rubbed over Patrick’s nipples at the same time, practically grinding on him, and he laughed into Patrick’s mouth as Patrick whined and squirmed helplessly in response. “Fuck,” Patrick gasped as Pete pulled his mouth off. “C’mon. Put that mouth to good use, yeah?” He gave a choked whimper as Pete slid his hand around his throat. “Dude! Shut the fuck up already.” He hissed. “Don’t ruin this. I’ve been waiting for this.” Patrick went silent, giving him a clearly pissy look and squirming out of his grasp.

Pete watched him in silence for a few seconds. “So you want that? You want me to use my mouth on you?” Patrick remained stony-faced, but nodded. Now was the time to push boundaries. Some days, Patrick loved the humiliation, loved being called names until he came so hard he whined and shook and cried out Pete’s name. Some days, it just got him pissed and effectively ruined Pete’s chances of fucking him. This could go either way. “Yeah? You want me to eat you out, pretty girl?” Patrick froze like a deer in headlights, processing that, before he gave a slow nod. “Yeah.” He whispered. “Yeah. Want you to eat me out.” Pete smiled, relieved he hadn’t ripped his head off. “Roll over. I’ll take care of you.” Patrick did as he said, wiggling out of his pants; Pete practically dove at him. He’d always liked eating Patrick out; it got him loud and whiny and loose like nothing else. Patrick was also wearing the tight little pink panties Pete loved. Pete tugged them aside and spread Patrick open. He hadn’t even touched him, really, and Patrick was whining and arching up like that would help him. Pete started to gently lick at his rim, giving a hum of appreciation, and Patrick gave a high, shaky whimper. He started to work his tongue in, lapping inside him, and he could hear Patrick start to fall apart. He pulled off momentarily, eliciting a grumble of protest, but he spoke before Patrick could interject. “That feel good, baby? You like when I eat your pussy?” Patrick got impossibly red in the face, but he bit his lip and frantically nodded. “Please keep going.” He said, barely above a whisper. That was all the encouragement Pete needed, and he immediately pressed his tongue back inside of him, reaching down to start stroking Patrick’s painfully hard dick. Patrick whined and squirmed, the blankets bunched in his fists, and pressed back against him. “Fuck me.” He gasped breathlessly. “Yeah?” Pete whispered. “I can do that. Lemme go get the lube, okay, sweet stuff?” Patrick rolled over, taking in a shaky breath. “Don’t fuckin’ call me that.” He mumbled. It was sinking in now, how wrong everything they were doing was; and yet he still wanted it enough to keep going. “So...you want missionary?” Pete mumbled uncertainly when he came back. Patrick gave a little shrug, watching him with indifference. “I could ride you, maybe,” he offered. Pete immediately nodded, clearly eager. Having Patrick ride him meant he could very well have Patrick on top until he couldn’t physically cum any more, but he was more than alright with that. “Sure,” he said. “Do you want me to finger you, or...?” Patrick shook his head, taking the lube from him and leaning back. “I’ll do it.” He mumbled. He got weird about these things, the portions of sex that weren’t just sex, that were caretaking too. He never really let Pete perform for him in that way, and it nagged at him, but he also understood. After a few minutes, he was tilting his head back, giving a shaky little moan. “Fuck. Alright. I’m good.” He mumbled, pushing Pete back. He slicked Pete up before slowly sinking himself onto Pete’s cock, eyes dark. “When...when she rides you like this,” he said, sentence broken by a sharp intake of breath. “...are you thinking of this? Thinking about me?” Pete tries to see it as Sexy Patrick, as smug and bitchy and bratty, but it just reads as desperate and insecure. He’s not teasing, not really. He wants to know. “Sometimes.” Pete says softly, bringing his hands up to Patrick’s hips. “Sometimes, yeah, I just...can’t help myself. I don’t want to. It’s just...it’s always you.” Patrick nods, closing his eyes and rocking faster, mouth falling open briefly. “Fuck, Pete,” he whispers, his own cock bobbing against his stomach. “You feel so fucking good.” Pete grips a little harder onto Patrick’s hips, hard enough that he’ll wince when he tugs on his jeans. “Yeah? You like that, you like having me inside you again?” Patrick doesn’t get cocky, just pants and whines and nods urgently, eyes locked onto him. Pete knows that look, and unfortunately, it’s the Patrick Love Look. He doesn’t want that, not now, his pre-orgasm doe eyes that mean he’s going to ask when they’ll do this again and what it means, why they’re still with other people when they both want this. He has to cut that shit off before it can begin. He leans up and flips them over; Patrick gives a little yelp of protest, but it’s quickly forgotten as Pete starts thrusting into him. Patrick relaxes, giving little moans with every thrust in, laying back and finally letting Pete do the work. Patrick’s eyes are half-closed, and his mouth is hanging open slightly, hands finding their way to Pete’s shoulders, trying to pull him closer, get him deeper inside. “More,” Patrick whines. “Harder, Pete, please.” Pete lifts Patrick’s hips, starts thrusting in as fast as he can; the near scream he gets in response means he’s probably done something right. Patrick reaches a hand down and starts urgently playing with himself - it’s barely a minute later that he cums hard, leaning up to bite down hard on Pete’s shoulder, muffling his helpless moaning. Pete follows immediately after. They don’t pull apart right away, staying tangled up in a panting mess until it starts to become uncomfortable. Patrick is the first to start to shove Pete away.

“That was nice.” He mutters uncomfortably, closing his legs and fumbling around for his discarded boxers. “Yeah, it - it was nice.” Pete manages. Patrick just barely glances up. “It’s okay. I know you don’t want to talk about it.” Pete doesn’t have time to respond before he’s getting up. “I gotta shower. I’ll see you.” He leaves Pete sitting alone on the ruined bed without a glance back. Pete wants to feel hurt, but really, he knows that if Patrick wasn’t blowing him off, they’d have to talk, and Patrick would end up crying. Simple sex is better.


End file.
